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STAGE GUILD PLA 

RYLAND ' A COMEDY 
IN ONE ACT 




STAGE GUILD PLAYS 
RYLAND ' A COMEDY 



RYLAND ' A COMEDY 

THOMAS WOOD STEVENS 

& KENNETH SAWYER 

GOODMAN 




THE STAGE GUILD 
CHICAGO 






\ 



Copyright, 1912, by Thomas Wood Stevens 

and Kenneth Sawyer Goodman. 

All rights reserved. 



Notice. Application for permission to per- 
form this play may be made to The Stage Guild, 
1527 Railway Exchange Building, Chicago; no 
performance of it can take place without consent 
of the owners of the acting rights. 



©CI.D 2967? 



RYLAND 

A Comedy in One Act 



CHARACTERS : 

William Wynne Ryland, Engraver. 

The Gaoler. 

Henry Fielding, Ryland' s pupil. 

Mary, Ryland' s wife. 

Mr. Haddrill, a printseller. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

Angelica KaufFman, 



Note. The first performance of the Stage 
Guild production of this play is to be given in 
February, 191 2, for the Chicago Society of 
Etchers. 



** The most remarkable of these cases , . . is that of Ryland 
the engraver, who in 1783 forged a bill for ^7,114 on the 
East India House, . . . described as the most extraordinary piece 
of deceptive art ever produced. . . . Ryland was convicted, 
chiefly through the evidence of a paper manufacturer, and sen- 
tenced to'death ; but a respite was granted that he might finish, 
for the benefit of his family, a fine engraving he had just begun — 
the last of a series from the pictures of Angelica KaufFman." 

— Side Lights on the Georgia?i Period, by George Paston^ 



RYLAND 

A Comedy in One Act 



SCENE: Ry land* 8 cell in Newgate. R, window, with an en- 
graving screen; a table and stool ; engraving tools, etc., 
on the wall a composition by Angelica KauiFman. L, a 
bench and a barred door, leading to the corridor. R. 
C, a small table with breakfast tray. 

\_Ryland and the Gaoler discovered. ] 

THE GAOLER. Your breakfast, Mr. Ryland. Your last break- 
fast, God help us all ! Many's the good man I've seen go out 
of here to Tyburn, housebreakers and murderers and thieves, 
but never a great artist, Mr, Ryland — never till you. 

RYLAND. So I'm to be hanged to-morrow morning, eh ? 

GAOLER. Yes, sir. To-morrow at six. 

RYLAND. Well . . . No more of this, \_Indicating the 
engraving~\ and good-bye to that, eh? \_With a gesture at the 
composition, "^ 

GAOLER, \^gloomilj\. To-morrow at six, sir. 

RYLAND. Buck up, man. It's I, not you. You will breakfast 
to-morrow. 

GAOLER. It has been very pleasant, having you here, sir. And 
profitable, too. 

RYLAND. I dare say. 

GAOLER. Yes, Mr. Ryland, I've had a tidy bit from the gen- 
tlemen who have come in to see you. Some bacon, sir — I can 
recommend it — none of the prison fare, that. And you've been 
most comfortable to deal with. No howling, no shaking the 
bars, no cursing at night. 

7 



RYLAND. No. none of that, I hope. 

GAOLER. It's because you've been busy with the plate, there. 
The picture-making has been a blessing to you. Then, you've 
never given up hope — 

RYLAND, I find myself hungry. That's strange. 

GAOLER. Not at all, sir. Many of them are so. IPause.'] 
Mr. Ryland, might I make so bold as to say, it would be a 
great service to me, if you would get another reprieve; work a 
week longer on the plate. It can't be anything to you, sir, so 
near the end, or I wouldn't be asking it. 

RYLAND. It would be a service to you, would it ? 

GAOLER. You could work at your engraving — 

RYLAND. I've overworked it now. 

GAOLER. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, sir. 
[^ knock outside.~\ 
[E?iter Fielding outside the grating. '\ 

FIELDING. May I speak with Mr. Ryland.?. 

GAOLER. I don't know; it's against the rules. [^Fielding gives 
him money. '\ Who shall I say, sir? 

FIELDING. Mr. Fielding. You've seen me often enough. 

GAOLER. To be sure, Mr. Fielding, but I likes to observe the 
formalities. It'll be five shillings, sir. 

FIELDING. Yesterday it was only two. 

GAOLER. He'll be leaving me soon — I've got to make the best 
of him while he lasts, God help him. [//> takes the money .^ 
unlocks the grating, and calls to Ryland."] 

GAOLER. Mr. Fielding's compliments to Mr. Ryland. \_Exit 
Gaoler.] 

RYLAND. My dear Henry, this is kind of you. 

FIELDING. Oh, Mr. Ryland, I came directly I could get word 
of Lord Wycombe's decision on your appeal — 

RYLAND. Oh, the pardon? 

FIELDING. Yes sir — 

8 



RYLAND. You'll forgivc me if I finish my breakfast. I can't 
offer you a chair — 

FIELDING. Oh, Mr. Ryland! 

RYLAND. Well — well? 

FIELDING. I went to Lord Wycombe's Secretary as soon as he 
was out of his bed. . . . Oh, Mr, Ryland! 

RYLAND. Out with it ! Am I pardoned, or only reprieved for 
another week? 

FIELDING. Neither. 

RYLAND. Come, come — 

FIELDING. Neither, sir. Lord Wycombe denies both your 
appeals. 

RYLAND. I've lost my appetite. . . . 

FIELDING \_leaning over him; Ryland looking over his breakfast.']^ 
He said you had been three times reprieved, that you might 
finish this plate; that his lordship had been more than merciful, 
considering the nature of your crime — 

RYLAND. I beg you not to mention it, Henry. I had com- 
mitted no crime. 

FIELDING. Never before, he said, had the statute in so grave 
a matter as forgery been stayed, and in your case only that your 
wife might not be left unprovided for. 

RYLAND. I understand his lordship's mercy. . . . 

FIELDING. And now, he says, if the plate is still unfinished, it 
must be carried on by another hand. 

RYLAND. That will not be necessary. 

FIELDING. He said that your wife — Oh, Mr. Ryland! . . . 
where else shall I go? That other appeal is there? 

RYLAND. ^Gets up and puti his hand on Fielding's shoulder.'^ 
My poor boy! You have been more than faithful. I can't be 
altogether worthless, to have you stick to me Hke this. Tell 
me — you will take care of her? You will be as devoted to her 
as you have been to me? 
FIELDING. My life, Mr. Ryland, shall be spent in her service. 

9 



RYLAND. I dare say. [^Moving up stage. ~\ Well, after all, 
there's a satisfaction in knowing the next day's work. It might 
have ended three week's ago. . . . The ride in the cart will 
be pleasant. The air, man! I've not had a full breath since — 
since the minions of the law broke in upon my seclusion. . . . 
But for these reprieves, I should have had it over and done with, 
and you and my wife would be already half comforted . . . 
shall I say? It's a miserable business, this shrinking back from 
the verge. 

FIELDING. Oh, sir, you must see that we are on the verge — 

RYLAND. I am on the verge. Fielding. 

FIELDING. For God's sake, sir, drop this pretense. It's one 
thing to jest at death when you're safe at home. It's another 
when you're — . . . Until to-day I never dreamed that you 
. . . that you could not escape. We must make some last 
effort. 

RYLAND. So you actually expect to see me kicking my heels at 
the end of a rope? 

FIELDING, Oh, sir, you must see it too. You must think. You 
must give me orders. If you sit and jest, I am helpless. It will 
all be over — 

RYLAND. My dear boy, what is there you can do? You tell 
me to drop the pretense. . . . What have I leit? I admit I 
never thought it would come to this. I still believed in my 
destiny. It's an ignominious end, it seems, . . . and I must 
meet it with what grace I may. In faith, it matters little : a 
wasted life gone out: a slender ghost of a talent strangled. . . . 
\_Moves over to the table where the plate /j.] I'm not sorry 
I've had this respite. Fielding. I've made a good plate here, 
and in this have paid a last courtesy to Mistress Angelica. I 
hope she will like it . . . if she ever comes back to see it. 
She's a dem'd fine woman, Angelica Kauffman, and this is as 
good a thing as ever she painted. I hope she likes it. ... 

FIELDING. Could Mistress Kauffman do nothing to save you, 

sir? 

RYLAND. She's a white moon, lad! She rides high on the 
winds of fame these days. It takes a long time for a cry of pain 
to mount that far. Fielding. . . . 

lO 



FIELDING. But have you tried? Have you written? 

RYLAND. I can be proud on occasion . . . even with a rope 
aiound my neck. Once she wasn't so far, so cold. . . . But 
that's another matter, a matter that's closed. Tomorrow . . . 
tush, I'm content. I'm tired. I'm ready to step off. 

FIELDING. But, sir, fehc might — 

RYLAND. No. I had it from Sir Joshua at the trial. She's in 

Italy. 

FIELDl^G. She's here in London! I saw her only this morning. 

RYLAND. Say that again! 

FIELDING. She's here in London. 

RYLAND. You fool ! Why didn't you tell me? You stand 
there and blither about Lord Wycombe's secretary, when An- 
gelica KaufFman's in London. ... In London! Why didn't 
I know it? I did know it. I felt it through these stiflirg walls. 
I was a dolt ... I thought it was only Spring in the air, 
April in my blood. It was hope, it was life. A moment ago 
you had me seeing myself on Tyburn Hill! And all the time 
I knew it could never come to that. 

FIELDING. What am I to do? 

RYLAND. Bring her here. Hunt her from one end of the town 
to the other. Bring her here, lad; I must talk to her. She can 
twist the Queen around her little finger. Through the Queen 
she can get me a royal pardon. 

FIELDING. The time is short. 

RYLAND. Time enough if she still cares! 

\The Gaoler knocks at the door.~\ 

GAOLER. A lady to see you, sir. 

FIELDING. Ah! 
RYLAND. Who is shc? 

GAOLER. Your wife, sir. 

RYLAND. Show her in. \_Fielding goes to the door and pays 
the Gaoler; Mary Ryland comes hiy and runs across to RylandS^ 

1 1 



MARY RYLAND. William . . . 

RYLAND. Good moming, my dear. 

MARY RYLAND. Aren't you glad to see me? 

RYLAND. Why shouldn't I be glad to see you? 

MARY RYLAND. You look disappointed. You haven't kissed me. 

RYLAND. I beg your pardon! \_He kisses her hand, and turns to 
Fielding.'^ Well, why don't you go? 

FIELDING. Where shall I look for her? 

RYLAND. Her house is in Golden Street. If you fail there, go 
to Sir Joshua. Spend what you need, but lose no time. 

MARY RYLAND. Has Something happened? Where is he to go? 

RYLAND. He is to bring Angelica KaufFman here. He has my 
orders. 

MARY RYLAND. No, I Say. I'll not have her here. I'll not 
have you see her. I'll not allow — 

RYLAND. Pardon me, my dear. He shall bring her. 

MARY RYLAND. \_Weepin^r\ And I've come day after day, 
and you've treated me like a stranger . . . and now you're 
sending for her. 

FIELDING [Taking a step toward her.'] It's all as it should be. 
Mistress Ryland. 

MARY RYLAND. You tell me that, Henry. Do you know? . . . 

FIELDING. I know there is need for her. 

MARY RYLAND. Then do as you think right. 

FIELDING, It's not that. Mistress Ryland. It's necessary, now 
that Lord Wycombe — 

RYLAND. Sst ! Go. [Fie/ding goes out.] My dear, I'm not 
flattered by your jealousy, I assure you. There is no need for 
you to question me — and Mistress Kauffman is a great artist. I 
must have her see this plate — to-day. That should be enough. 

MARY RYLAND. But, William, you knew her before you ever 
saw me, and it hurts me to think — 

12 



RYLAND. There, there, my dear, 

\_The Gaoler knocks at the doorJ^ 

GAOLER. Mr. Haddrill, on important business with Mr. Ryland. 

RYLAND. A§k Mr. Haddrill to sit down outside. You can 
squeeze an extra shilling out of him for a chair. 

MARY RYLAND, But William, you can't keep Mr. Haddrill 
waiting. 

RYLAND. To-day it is my privilege to keep anybody waiting. 

MARY RYLAND. But Mr. Haddrill' s your publisher. 

RYLAND. He's a tradesman to whom I'm doing a favor. A 
favor by which you are to profit, not I. 

MARY RYLAND. Don't make it harder for me. 

RYLAND. Mary, I want a few moments alone with you. 

MARY RYLAND. I thought you'd rather be rid of me . . . that 
you'd rather — 

RYLAND. My poor child. You seem to forget that my last 
platr, the thing I've let them stretch out my life, week by week, 
to finish — for your benefit; the only profitable thing I can leave 
you, in this world, is a copper mirror fashioned to reflect the 
genius of Angelica KauiFman. 

MARY RYLAND. It's fof her pleasure, her fame, you've been 
working, not for me. You've sent Fielding to fetch her. . . . 

RYLAND. The plate's finished. It must have her approval be- 
fore ... I go, 

MARY RYLAND. Don't! Don't speak of the end. ... I 
can't bear it. I'm your wife. 

RYLAND. Poor child. Poor little creature. I think you pity 
yourself more than you pity me. 

MARY RYLAND. How Can you? How can you.? 

RYLAND. Why all this snivelling about so simple a thmg as 
death? A little jaunt from here to somewhere else ... a 
step off into the empty air. My dear, it's I that take the step, 
not you. 

MARY RYLAND. Ohl Oh, how Can you go on about it this way? 

13 



RYLAND. Because I want to see you smile again. Because 
you're young. Because I've wasted a year of your life, and 
I'm sorry for it. ... Because I want you to undertand that 
if it happens I've come to the end of my lane, you are only 
turning into yours, . . . and the hedgerows are white with 
hawthorn bloom. You'll see the green trees in the Mall, the 
red sun over the chimney pots, the silver river when you walk 
on the embankment at night. 

MARY RYLAND. But thc lonclincss, the separation! 

RYLAND. \_Losing patience a little. ~\ Tush! Such separations 
are only terrible when two people love each other. 

MARY RYLAND. But I love yOU. 

RYLAND. No, I dazzled you. . . . And now I want to 
make it easy for you. 

HADDRiLL. \_Heard outside.~\ I won't wait any longer, Ryland. 
This business is urgent. \_He comes ifi^ stops on seeing Mistress 
Ryland y and bows to her rather curtly.~\ Your servant, madam. 

RYLAND. To what am I indebted, Mr. Haddrill? 

HADDRILL. In Mistress Ryland' s presence — . . . 

MARY RYLAND. I pray you not to consider my feelings, Mr. 
Haddrill. 

HADRiLL. Egad, madam, it's for you to say, \^Turns to Ry- 
land."] Here you've put me in a fix! They say you've no 
more reprieve, no chance of pardon. That you hang at sun- 
rise to-morrow. You should have considered my interest. You 
should have given me more time. 

MARY RYLAND. No reprieve ... no pardon! 

HADDRILL. \_Paying no attention to her.'\ Is the plate done, 
signed, ready to print? Don't you see I've only the day for 
the edition, and the advertisement and all, or I'll miss the big 
sale at the stalls along the Tyburn road? 

RYLAND. Ah, that would be a pity. It's ready, you see. 
\Holds up plate. ] 

HADDRILL. Ready! . . . But thc ink won't be dry before they 
have the halter on you. And I'd planned to make it a great day in 

14 



the trade, — a great day, sir, for the art of England. It's a wonder- 
ful opportunity for a pushing man — the last plate and the artist 
hanged to-day. ... I had made some very striking prep- 
arations, Ryland. 

RYLAND, Hadn't you forgotten something, Mr. Haddrill? 

HADDRiLL. Not a thing. . . . But you give me so little 
time. I plan to sell the prints at my shop, in Saint Paul's 
Churchyard, at Temple Bar, at stalls along the way to Tyburn; 
and I have six most lugubrious looking fellows — picked them out 
for their woebegone faces — all with crepe on their hats, sir, to 
sell them at Tyburn. Then I've got out broadsides, sir ; and 
I've had a ballad written to sell at the hanging — all about you 
and your crime, and the prints for sale at my shop. Here 
it is, sir — like to look at it? \_He hands Ryland a ballad J\ 
And now there's so little chance to get 'em out, I take it very 
hard, Ryland. 

RYLAND. This is miserable stuff. 

HADDRILL. I'd havc you know, sir, the same author wrote one 
last month for the celebrated highwayman. Jack Sparrow. It 
took the town by storm. 

RYLAND. My name will go down in illustrious company. . , . 

HADDRILL. Pcrhaps a little revision, with your help? 

RYLAND. No, let it serve as it is. I've a bargain to strike with 
you, Haddrill. 

HADDRILL. I thought you'd struck a pretty stiff bargain already, 
Ryland. I'm to pay your wife five shillings to the pound more 
than I'd give any living engraver. I've even advanced you ten 
pounds. I call it sharp practice — 

RYLAND. These are my final conditions, Mrx Haddrill. You 
offer five shillings. That won't do. You must double it. 

HADDRILL. Double it! 

RYLAND. All proofs must be numbered in the presence of Mr. 
Fielding. 

HADDRILL. You mean you don't trust me, Ryland? 

RYLAND. Remember, I shan't be here. I trust Fielding. 

15 



You've advanced ten pounds. Before the plate leaves my hands 
she must have fifty. 

HADDRiLL. Egad, you'rc driving it altogether too hard. 

RYLAND. No, Haddrill, but I understand my position. Pm 
a public figure to-day. London will stand tiptoe all night to see 
me hanged in the morning. Another condition. I must see 
the contract you sign with my relict widow, Mary Ryland 
here. I must see you sign it in the presence of Fielding and 
Sir Joshua. They'll hold you to it. 

HADDRILL. Look you, Mr. Ryland, I agree to the double roy- 
alty. But this goes too far, too dem'd far! I'm a man of 
my word, sir. I'll not be treated like a shuffling huckster, like 
a cheating fishmonger, like a dem'd criminal. I'm a communi- 
cant of the Church of England, sir! I won't be bound hand 
and foot. 

RYLAND. I thought not. 

HADDRILL. Dcucc take you, sir! Blast your eyes, sir! What 
do you mean by that, sir? 

RYLAND. Only this. You promise quickly enough, but I mean 
to see that you perform. 

HADDRILL. \Taking Up his hat.~\ Very well, sir. Very well, 
I'm sorry you're so headstrong. 

RYLAND. You kuow how many printsellers there are in Lon- 
don. . . . All waiting for this chance. 

HADDRILL. You won't abate your conditions? 
RYLAND. Not a penny. 

HADDRILL. I'm sorry I can't take you. , . . And I had 
it all planned. 

RYLAND. You had it planned! A clumsy, niggardly plan you 
had. I know what the town will think. I know how the 
town will buy. Six hang dog hucksters with crepe on their 
hats! That's like you, Haddrill ; no taste whatever. Twelve 
young gentlemen, dressed in the height of fashion — veritable 
macaronis, — that's what you should have, and them selling the 
prints like mad, and all for the sake of charity to a pretty widow. 
Flowers! My cart to be loaded with violets when 

i6 



it stops at St. Sepulchre's. It's an occasion, sir, when the 
King's Engraver rides to Tyburn! At Holborn Bar you will 
have theiii fetch me a flagon of old port — 

HADDRiLL. But think of the expense, man, the expense! 

RYLAND. Will you stick at a few pounds at a time like this? 
I wouldn't deal in sixpences on a great day for the art of Eng- 
land. 

HADDRILL. You dealt in thousands, and see where it brought 
you. Think of me. 

RYLAND. Why should I think of you! I'm the one to be 
haoged, Haddrill, not you. Broadsides, and a ballad! I can 
make a speech from the scaffold that'll ring through the town un- 
til this plate's worn thin as paper. Where will your ballad and 
your broadsides be then? 

HADDRILL, You'll make a speech? 

RYLAND. Aye, that I will. But it depends on you, Haddrill, 
what sort of speech. 

HADDRILL. You'rc a genius, Ryland. 

RYLAND. The speech will cost you twenty pounds extra to 
Mistress Ryland — mentioned in the contract. 

HADDRILL. \^Writing.'\ Mentioned in the contract. Violets 
at Saint Sepulchre's ; a flagon of port at Holborn Bar ; twenty 
pounds extra for a speech on the scafibld ; twelve young gentle- 
men — no crepe on their hats. You're a genius, Ryland — but 
you bargain like a Jew. 

RYLAND. I must protcct Mistress Ryland' s interests. 

MARY RYLAND. Oh, oh ! 

HADDRILL. You'll give mc the plate immediately? 
RYLAND. When you bring me the contract. 

HADDRILL. I give you my oath I'll treat your wife handsomely. 
I had something else in mind. ... A very pretty idea, 
and quite geriteel, too ; quite up to your tone. If Mistress Ry- 
land would sit in my shop for a week after the hanging and sell 
the prints herself — 

17 



MARY RYLAND. Oh! thc shamc of it. 
RYLAND. How much will you pay her? 

MARY RYLAND. William, William, how can you? . , 

RYLAND. Hush, my dear. Mr. Haddrill will think you are 
over-sensitive. This is a matter of business. 

HADDRILL. It would have a great effect. You might mention 
it in your speech, ... 

MARY RYLAND. This is moHstrous. . , . This is terrible, 
m have nothing to do with it. I won't listen. I — 

RYLAND. You sec, Haddrill, there is still some delicacy of 
feeling left in England, 

HADDRILL. I thought it most genteel, most suitable. Very — 
well, touching. But it's for Mistress Rylandtosay. 

RYLAND. She appears to object. 

HADDRILL. At least she'll be at Tybum . . . dressed in black, 
when the young gentlemen sell the prints. She'll be where the 
crowd can see her? It would help amazingly. 

RYLAND. Surely, my dear, you can't refuse him that much. 
It's only what any dutiful wife would be expected to do, under 
the circumstances, . . . You'll have everyone's sympathy. 

HADDRILL. Very fitting, very proper, I'm sure. Have you a 
black dress. Mistress Ryland? 

MARY RYLAND. William, this is a nightmare. . . . Tell 
me I'm not awake, William. 

RYLAND. There, there child! Go with Mr. Haddrill. He'll 
take you to a draper's. Be sure you get a becoming frock — 
he has no taste. 

MARY RYLAND. No, no! 

HADDRILL. Come, madam. I'll bring you back when I fetch 
the contract. 

RYLAND. Yes, child, go. I'm expecting other visitors. . . . 
Go on with your preparations, Mr. Haddrill. 

[Haddrul and Mistress Ryland start to go out; as they 
turn azvayy Ryland laughs aioudy and Haddrill faces 
about. ']^ 

i8 



RYLAND, But what if I shouldn't be hanged? 

HADDRILL. Good Lofd ! 

RYLAND. Do you think there's a reagonable doubt? 

HADDRILL. \Thinking it ovcf and stniuTig grimly, "^ No, Ry- 
land, I don't. . . . But I confess you gave me a turn. 

RYLAND. Au revoir, Mr. Haddrill, 

\HaddriU again turns toward the doory finds it barred, 
the Gaoler with his hand on the lock, Haddrill steps 
toward the door, but the Gaoler makes no move to open 

'■'■] 

HADDRILL. Den of thieves. 

[//if pays the Gaoler and goes out. Ryland hums a line 
of song, and moves about the table, putting his proofs and 
materials in order. Fielding^ s voice is heard outside the 
door. ] 

FIELDING. Mr. Ryland, Mr. Ryland. I've seen her. . . . 
RYLAND. She's coming? 

FIELDING, Yes. 

RYLAND. Alone? 

FIELDING. No. . . . She's bringing Sir Joshua. 

RYLAND. The devil! 

GAOLER. I don't call this fair to me, Mr. Ryland. 

RYLAND. My dear man, you've spoken yourself of the gener- 
ous treatment you've had from me and my friends. Let this 
pass, don't be grasping. . . . Besides, there's a lady coming 
— and a gentleman. They'll pay handsomely. In fact, it 
would be worth your while to bring in another chair. 

GAOLER. I've no wish to be hard with you, Mr. Ryland, but 
there are rules. 

RYLAND. I know. You make them yourself. 

FIELDING. \Outside.~\ Am I to come in, Mr. Ryland? 

RYLAND. [^Putting on his coat,'] No. You've done your share. 
Wait and see that this . . . butler welcomes them properly. 

'9 



[ The Gaoler brings in the chair ^ and goes out. Ryland 

moves the chair so that Angelica and Sir Joshua must 

sit far apart y and hums the song again. The door opens ^ 

GAOLER. Sir Joshua Reynolds. Mistress Angelica KaufFman. 

\The Gaoler goes out, smiling broadly j as the visitors 
have been generous.'^ 

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. I trust you'll pardon my intrusion, Mr. 
Ryland. But ladies of fashion . . , gentleman's apartment 
. . . you understand. Even in so irreproachable place as 
Newgate. 

ANGELICA KAUFFMAN. ^Crossing Sir yoshua.~\ It grieves me 
deeply, Mr. Ryland — . . . 

RYLAND. ^To Angelica. ~\ Couldn't you have trusted me 
enough to come alone? 

SIR JOSHUA. [^Adjusting his ear trumpet.~\ Eh, what's that? 

ANGELICA. Mr. Ryland spoke of his sense of the honour you do 
him in coming. Sir Joshua. 

SIR JOSHUA. Ah, did he say that? Well, well, where' s the 
plate? We came to see the plate you've engraved from Mis- 
tress Kauffman's picture. 

\_Ryland holds up the plate, bows Sir Joshua to the chair, 
extreme right, and goes over to Angelica, handing her 
the plate.~\ 

RYLAND. \_To Angelica,"^ It was more, much more than the 
plate. . . . 

SIR JOSHUA. Eh, what's that? A little more distinctly sir. 

RYLAND. [TV Angelica. ~\ Confound your dragon. ^To Sir 
yoshua.'\ I wish to consult Mistress KaufFman about the draw- 
ing of the arm. 

SIR JOSHUA. Eh? Oh. . . , Ah, the drawing. I shouldn't 
examine it. Better let it pass. 
ANGELICA. Oh, lud, sir, I scarcely know how to take you. 

SIR JOSHUA. Always said, dear lady, your art . . . transcends 
mere drawing. 

ANGELICA. Ah, the kind lies he tosses to the vanity of his friends. 
Dear Sir Joshua. 



20 



SIR JOSHUA, Well, sir, have you nothing to show? No trial 
proofs? Let me see the work, sir, and I'll toss you no kind 
lies. I've an engagement. 

RYLAND. Give it to him, madam, and for God's sake grant mc 
a moment's speech with you apart. 

SIR JOSHUA. If you desire my criticism, Mr. Ryland, you mu»t 
speak more distinctly. 

ANGELICA. \Hands a proof to Sir Joshua."^ Do mc the honor, 
sir. 

ANGELICA. \_Referring to the plate. ~\ This is all my intention 
in the cartoon, Mr. Ryland. You have a wonderful gift of 
patience. 

RYLAND. Not patience. Mistress, but an exquisite pleasure. 
... to follow your fancy, your sentiment. . . . 

SIR JOSHUA. It does you credit, sir — and the lady as well. Ad- 
mirable. . . . Though I see nothing in it to stay the course of 
justice. 

RYLAND. \_With lofty resignation.'^ So you believe it to be 
justice, sir? 

SIR JOSHUA, My belief has no weight, Ryland. . . . But now 
that this is done, and the legal pother over with, what are you 
going to do with it? 

RYLAND. If it has Mistress KaufFman's approval, what do I care 
— what they do with it? 

SIR JOSHUA. You take it too lightly. The plate must be worth 
money, and your obligations to your — 

RYLAND. ^Glancing toward Angelica.~\ Spare me that. Sir 
Joshua, I beg you. What is money, to a man who lodges here 
for the last night? 

SIR JOSHUA. Rubbish! Your affairs should be left in order. . . . 
That is the least you can do for — 

RYLAND. Do you not understand, sir, that this pains me deeply. 
Money has been the shadow, the strain of discord, the flaw in 
the metal. . . . Money has been my ruin . . . and you ask 
me to spend my last hours haggling — 

SIR JOSHUA. Calm yourself, sir. Haddrill, I suppose, brings 
it out. I'll look to this for you. 

21 



RYLAND. That is more than I have a right to ask of you. Sir 

Joshua. 

SIR JOSHUA. Tush, tush. I'm not speaking of your rights, but 

in the interest of your — 

RYLAND. Haddrill will attend to everything. He's bringing 

me a contract. He's a very generous fellow, Haddrill. I shall 

sign it. Sir Joshua, without reading. 

SIR JOSHUA. Not without my reading. . . . Must take care of 

you, even if you choose to hang yourself. 

ANGELICA. [Protesting at the word.'\ Oh, Sir Joshua. 

RYLAND. I thank you for that. Mistress. 

GAOLER. \_Jt the door.'\ Mr. Haddrill is back. Says he's 

forgotten something. Shall I admit him, Mr. Ryland? 

SIR JOSHUA. Very fortunate, . . . Show him in. I'll arrange 

this matter now . . . take care of all the quibbles before they 

come up. 

RYLAND. Sir Joshua, I beg you not to afflict me. I have only 

a few hours . , . and this is torture. If you are inflexible in 

your kindness toward me, go to Haddrill and do what you can 

in my behalf. It's more than I ought to ask . . . and I hope 

you will not find I have been too heedless. 

SIR JOSHUA. It should be done in your presence, but you're so 

dem'd improvident. 

RYLAND. I am not so improvident as to be ungrateful, sir. \_He 

bows Sir Joshua out and turns to face Atigelica."^ You at least 

have a sympathy for me. Mistress ; you who understand so well 

the delicacy of my feelings in an hour like this. 

ANGELICA. I hardly know. This is all so shocking, so terrible. 

I am . . . 

RYLAND. Dear lady, I have been a brute to drag you here, 

you, who live in the glow and the music . . . to see a man in 

this hopeless gloomy cell, a poor devil who is about to die — 

ANGELICA. Please don't. ... I shall faint. 

RYLAND. I beg you not to faint, I will speak of other days, 
and you shall listen — out of charity. It doesn't so much matter 
to me now ; I've done with it all. But it was hard to face the 
end without seeing you again. Now I can go. ... I'm not 
unready. 

22 



ANGELICA. What diiFercnce can seeing me make? 

RYLAND. What difference? ... I ride to Tyburn with a vision 
of you in my eyes, the sound of your voice in my cars, the touch 
of your pity on my defeated heart. . . . What difference? . , . 
If you had not come, I should have gone out of here with the 
gallows swinging before me, and my misspent years blowing in 
my face. 

ANGELICA. This is very sentimental, Ryland. I hardly imagined 
that you . . . that I — 

RYLAND. That it meant so much to me, when you last refused 
me? 

ANGELICA. There, there, Ryland. You knew it was impossible. 

RYLAND. I know. . . . You thought you loved — 

ANGELICA. I beg you not to speak of him. He was unworthy, 
and he is gone . . . out of my life. 

RYLAND. \_Suddenly hilar ious,~\ And out of England! Egad, 
why shouldn't I speak of him. The town talked on nothing 
else : The distinguished Count de Horn shows an interest in 
the incomparable Mistress Kauffman; he is accepted; he isn't; 
he is. . . . They are married; they are not; they are. . . . 
He is an impostor; he is a prince in disguise; he is the son of 
his father's cook! and then . . . pouf! He's gone, 

ANGELICA. You Can not imagine, sir, this is pleasant to me. 
RYLAND. Nor was it pleasant to me. The Count de Horn . . . 
the son of his father's cook . . . and a bigamist! Mistress 
Kauffman will prosecute; she will not; she will. . . . He was 
a criminal. He had imposed upon your faith, your heart, your 
honour. You could have let him hang. . . . But instead of 
that you gave him his freedom and five hundred pounds. 
ANGELICA. Three hundred. 
RYLAND. Generous soul ! 

ANGELICA. I will not remain here, sir, to be taunted with my 
past misfortunes. 

RYLAND. Nothing was further from my intention. 
ANGELICA. Then why do you recall this? 
RYLAND. I'm sure I don't know. . . . It's my whim to mar- 
vel, just for the moment, at the charity which gives a scoundrel, 

23 



who had wronged you, his freedom and three hundred pounds, 
while you see a man who has devoted his life to the spreading 
of your fame, a man who has loved you, and who still loves you, 
go to the gallov/s without the compliment of a tear. 
ANGELICA. This is most unjust. You have given me neither 
time nor proper occasion^ for weeping, Ryland, 
RYLAND. \_Coming close to her.~\ And it does not occur to 
you; now that you see me again? . . . 

ANGELICA. \_She backs toward the door.'\ Nothing occurs to 
me; I'm all upset by your impudence. 

RYLAND. Unkind, unkind ! When this is my last living day, 
and you could, if you chose , . . 

ANGELICA. If you comc a step nearer, I shall call Sir Joshua. 
RYLAND. \jStops and looks at her, his eyes filed with admira- 
tion,'] The winter in Italy has agreed with you. . . . I've 
never seen you look so . . . dangerous, Angehca. 
ANGELICA. You mustn't call me that. . . . My name — 
RYLAND. That was what I called you when we danced together 
at Tunbridge, the night you laughed with me over Fuseli's pro- 
posal; Angelica I called you when we sat together on Richmond 
Hill, and watched the moon trace out the Thames with silver 
fingers; Angelica I called you that divine day in Windsor Forest, 
— the day I first told you I loved you; — Angelica — 
ANGELICA. You play upon the word, Ryland, as though it were 
a refrain. 

RYLAND. The refrain of a living love, dearest . . . in the song 
of a dead life. 

ANGELICA. Is it a dead life, William? . . . 
RYLAND. It dies at sunrise . . . and all for a few pounds un- 
wisely borrowed, a few creditors inhumanly clamorous, and the 
lies of a paper-maker who hated me. 
ANGELICA. What is it they accuse you of? 
RYLAND. Forgery. 
ANGELICA. And you are not guilty. 

RYLAND. Guilty? ... I have borrowed unwisely, I tell you. 
I was hungry for the sight of . . . Italy. Is that guilt? There 
was a matter of a note — an India company note. Thirty men had 

24 



signed it, and not one of them at the trial could say the hand was 
not his own. \_She makes a gesture of inquiry, '\ This paper- 
maker ... he swore he had made the paper on which it was 
written a year after the date of the note. Guilty? . . . That 
would have been criminally stupid, and of stupidity no one has 
ever accused me. . . . For all that, the court passed sentence, 
ANGELICA. And is there no appeal? 

RYLAND. What need of appeal, if it no longer touches you? 
ANGELICA. But if it does touch me? 

RYLAND. We have tried what we could. ... I have been 
three times reprieved, to finish this plate. It is done. Hii 
Majesty is inexorable. But with you in England, with the lure 
of you — 

ANGELICA. Don't tcll me you would not make the effort except 
as I inspired it. 
RYLAND. Why? 

ANGELICA. I could not belicvc you. 

RYLAND. The truth, then: you can reach the Queen. Through 
her. King George. Till you came, I. had no voice to reach 
him. You can have what you ask. Let it be . . . my life. 
ANGELICA. You Want me to go the Queen? 
RYLAND. Yes! 

ANGELICA. This would compromise me more deeply than you 
can imagine. 

RYLAND. \Sardonically,'\ You have not imagined how high it 

will hang me . . . if you refuse. 

ANGELICA. And if I fail? 

RYLAND. I shall not murmur. . . . But I do not believe you 

can fail. 

ANGELICA. William. William. . . . No, don't come near me. 
I will go. This must be secret — 

RYLAND. You Can trust me. 

ANGELICA. And there must be no more talk of love . , . no 
notes, messages, flowers, tokens. You are to be merely a man 
— an artist — in whose work I take a great interest ... an 
innocent man whom I endeavor to deliver from an unjust death — 

25 



RYLAND. Stop. I agree to the secrecy, but I do not pledge 
myself not to love you. 

ANGELICA. You mUSt. 

RYLAND. I will not take life on these terms. Secrecy — dis- 
cretion — yes. . . . You can not require that I forget you. 

ANGELICA. It cuts me . . . you have been faithful to a mem- 
ory so long. Perhaps, when this is over, I may permit you to 
remember again. 

RYLAND. ^Seizing her hand and kissing it, ] Better to blot out 
my life than the memories of Richmond Hill ! 

ANGELICA. You must keep them deep hidden, William. . , . 
These are perilous things^, these memories. 

RYLAND. They have been my stay, my comfort, since these 
ungentle days came upon me. A faith like mine, Angelica, a 
love that endures unshaken ... it must be something, even to 
you. Tell me you go to the ^ueen because you too remem- 
ber — 

ANGELICA, It is enough that I go. 

RYLAND. No. . . . That you go out of love for me. 

ANGELICA. You must content yourself, William. . . . For you 
I go to the Queen. 

\She starts toward the bars when the Gaoler opens them 
quietly and Mary Ryland comes in. Mistress Ryland 
pauses, glances at Angelica, and goes over to Ryland, who 
waves her away and sinks back against the table. Mary 
comes down, L., hesitates a moment, then comes down 
above Angelica, L. C, and falls on her knees, clasping 
Angelica's handj] 

MARY RYLAND. Oh madam, madam! 

ANGELICA. What* 8 this? . . . Let go my hand, girl. 

RYLAND. What brings you back? . . . 

MARY RYLAND. Mr. HaddriU says . . . Oh, Madam, you 
could do something, you could help us — 

ANGELICA. Help us? Who are you, child? 

26 



MARY RYLAND. Vm the unhappiest woman . . . I've been a 
jealous fool . . . But I know he's too proud, too honourable. 
He would die rather than be too heavily beholden to you. But 
I have no pride: I can beg you to plead for him; I can beseech 
you on my knees. If you are not moved to do your utmost for 
him, at least you must look with pity on me . . . 
ANGELICA. Is this lady your wife, Mr. Ryland? 

RYLAND. Yes. 

ANGELICA. [Witb menace.'] I regret that you omitted to 
mention her. 

[Mary Ryland moves away from her, and Ryland sinks 

back in dispair.~\ 
SIR JOSHUA. [Heard outside.'] Well, I must say, Haddrill, he*« 
driven a sharp bargain with you. 
HADDRILL. Sharp bargain! Dem'd close to robbery, I call it. 

[Enter Sir Joshua and Haddrill, Fielding following 

them.] 
ANGELICA. [To Sir Joshua.] So you've not found him so 
simple? 

SIR JOSHUA. Simple ! He has bound this poor fellow to support 
his wife for the rest of her days. 

HADDRILL. I'm a man of my word, Ryland. If you're satis- 
fied, I'll trouble you for the plate. [Ryland hands over the 
plate, bowing.] I shall live up to my part of the contract. 

RYLAND. You may rest assured as to my part of it. 

SIR JOSHUA. I'm sorry, Ryland. I tell you frankly, I wished 
to think well of you. But this contract , . . a man capable of 
such a document, sir — I spare you my opinion, in your wife'* 
presence. 

ANGELICA. [Joining Haddrill and Sir Joshua.] Your pre- 
sumption, sir; your lack of candour — . . . 

RYLAND. My best friends ... it grieves me exceedingly that 
the confidence of one's best friends should be turned aside by a 
man's natural efforts to save his neck and to provide for his family. 

27 



MARY RYLAND. [ Ti? Jngeiica,~\ Madam, is there nothing you 
can do? 

ANGELICA. Nothing I care to do. 

FIELDING, Oh, Mr. Ryland, if you would only — 

RYLAND. Let me alone. You won't grieve long. You'll get 
your reward. 

MARY RYLAND. Oh, William, William! 

RYLAND. Tush, child, go with Fielding. He'll take care of 

you. You've done enough . . . forme. 

ANGELICA. For shamc, Ryland! '[She gathers Mary Ryland 

under her arm.'j When you need to see her, Mr. Haddrill, 

come to me. 

HADDRILL. [From the doory where he and Sir 'Joshua are about 

to go out.'\ Your servant, madam. 

SIR JOSHUA. Come, Mistress Angelica. Remember, Ryland, 

I wished to think well of you. 

RYLAND. I have not long to remember. Sir, your very humble 

servant. 

[Exeunt Sir Joshua, Haddrill and Fielding. Angelica stops 
at the door and turns backy Mary Ryland with her."] 

ANGELICA. She goes under my protection, Ryland. 

[Mistress Ryland leaves Angelica for a moment , and goes 
slowly over to Rylaud who kisses her forehead and leads 
her back to Angelica,^ 

RYLAND. I am filled with gratitude. Mistress. Mary, you will 

find it most pleasant I am sure. ... A gay household, Mary 

— you'll Hke that. 

ANGELICA. Not SO gay as it has been, Ryland. You see, I 

have my husband to consider. 

[Ryland draws himself up, swift ly.~\ 

RYLAND. Your husband? . . . I'm sorry you omitted to men- 
tion him. My compliments, madam. [Exeunt Angelica and 

Mistress Ryland. Ryland speaks to the Gaoler, who is ahout to 

close the door^ It won't be necessary to admit any more visitors. 

GAOLER. No, sir. But there's the chaplain to see you, sir. 

RYLAND. What's that? 

28 



GAOLER. The chaplain of the prison, Mr. Ryland, to see you. 
RYLAND. \_Rising a?id fumbling with his cravat, '\ The chap- 
lain. . . . Oh, God, yes! . . . Yes, yes, yes! I suppose I 
shall have to see the chaplain. 

\_Curtatn.'\ 



29 



.AMie^s^i 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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